


worms on a string (of destiny)

by yareyareyumi



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night: Unlimited Blade Works (Anime 2014)
Genre: Angst, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Cu Chulainn’s life KINDAAAAAA sucks but you won’t catch him moping (coping) about it, I don't know how i managed to forget those two, M/M, Worm on a string AU, You know how I said I’d write serious fic eventually well I fucking lied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19838794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yareyareyumi/pseuds/yareyareyumi
Summary: Lancer curled on the steps leading to the temple, waiting to die.---UBW anime canon divergence where Cu survives the Basement. Night before the final standoff against GilgameshWorm on a String AU!





	worms on a string (of destiny)

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this because I was sick of EMIYA being an emotional bottom in yrym all the goddamn time, make the first move PLEASE I BEG YOU. 
> 
> “Worm” capitalized = replaces “Servant” 
> 
> “worm” lowercase = replaces “man/human” 
> 
> Peist = worm in Irish

Lancer curled on the steps leading to the temple, waiting to die. He ignored the glittering cityscape below him, opting to admire the full moon instead.

His bloodlust had settled to a comfortable hum, and he felt sated, like he’d just had a full meal.

The writhing wound in his wormy chest twitched suddenly, and Lancer shifted with a sigh.

To distract himself, he thought about Kotomine’s face as he’d plunged his spear deep into the priest’s chest. He thought about Kotomine’s look of undignified surprise, how his eyes had glazed over, and how his stony face had suddenly gone slack, like he was a puppet and someone had cut his strings. Lancer smiled contentedly.

He had survived the fire and the collapsing basement and had decided to celebrate his newfound freedom by taking a stroll. Through the fog clouding his head, Lancer had remembered the temple atop the hill and figured that it offered a better vantage point than any. It had taken him some time to drag himself up each step. The curse had festered relentlessly all the way, and he’d lost all feeling in his lower tail. But as he looked at the peaceful sky mottled with stars, all Lancer cared about was enjoying the night air.

Death truly must have been pounding on Lancer’s doors for his increasingly hazy thoughts drifted to Bazett of their own volition. Killing Kirei wouldn’t bring her or all her promises back, and Lancer liked to think he wasn’t that much of a fool to ever entertain the sentiment.

But, as he refocused on the moon, Lancer was determined to enjoy the view, for her sake as well.

He heard a branch snap behind him. Lancer didn’t bother turning around. His instincts screamed at him, sending blood pounding in his (worm) ears, but Lancer batted the warning away. He fixated on the cool, impartial glow of the moon.

There was the sound of fuzz whispering across the stone, approaching him from behind, getting closer with each slither.

Archer came to a stop beside him. Lancer spared him a glance. The other worm was hunched over, face haggard and parts of his tail bent at painful angles. His dark red fuzz was caked with (worm) blood.

Archer spoke first. “I thought I sensed another Worm here.”

Lancer sighed loudly. “If you are here to bother me, get before I give you a good thrashing. Otherwise, enjoy the moon. Quietly.”

Archer’s googly eyes rattled as he looked Lancer up and down, unimpressed. “Give me a ‘good thrashing,’ you say? In your state?”

“Yeah,” Lancer bared his teeth (or whatever worms have instead) and finally turned to look at Archer. “Want to try me?”

“No,” Archer said slowly. Lancer was surprised by his genuine tone. He looked closer and noticed that the other Worm seemed more subdued and relaxed in general. “Even I am not twisted enough to derive a dying worm of his last moments, however he may wish to enjoy them.”

Lancer snorted and flicked his tail. “And you had to go make it sentimental. What are you doing here? If it’s dying, pick another spot. I got here first.”

“No, I’m here to redeem myself, I suppose,” Archer said, glancing up toward the shrine. He curled on the step next to Lancer.

“Yeah you seem the type who’d need to believe in redemption,” Lancer said conversationally.

He could hear Archer’s smile in his voice.“I'm guessing you aren’t the type?”

Lancer snorted loudly in response.

“And yet, here you are, bleeding out on the same step as me,” Archer continued. “In every aspect, our lives and beliefs clash. Still, here we are, dying in each other's company. How intriguing.”

"If you want _company_ for your misery, you’re out of luck,” Lancer drawled. “I told you, I got here first. Find your own resting place.”

“Of course, of course,” Archer laughed. “I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Peist Chulainn.”

Lancer didn't bother untangling what the other worm meant by that. “What was that about not denying another worm of his last moments? Or is mockery just regular conversation for you?”

"I admire you, you know," Archer said suddenly.

Lancer did not, in fact, know. He cocked his snout.

Archer was smiling (just pretend worms can smile). Even though he’d seen the other worm smile plenty of times, Lancer was caught off guard by this particular smile. Archer’s fuzz was all over the place - a far cry from its usual slicked-back style - and he looked unusually boyish.

"If you're a Worm you ought to be able to handle blood loss better," Lancer said, after a pause.

Archer chuckled. The sound was shockingly warm, and Lancer now stared openly at Archer.

"There's no need for shame,” Archer said with an apologetic smile that made Lancer shift uncomfortably, “especially since you won't remember this."

‘You,’ not ‘we.’

Lancer processed the implication. His intuition hazarded a guess, and he followed it. "And how many times has this conversation happened?"

Archer smiled again, dreamily this time, as if recalling a fond memory. "Never. You usually die before I get the chance to speak with you outside of battles."

Have I been playing an unfair game? Lancer idly wondered. He'd thought it'd been a bit too perfectly engineered. Archer was a Worm whose very existence agitated him like none other's. A Worm who derided everything Peist Chulainn stood for with unfathomable scorn, who could match him blow for blow but took no joy from such feats, who was now smiling rather dopily at him.

"What do you want from me?” Lancer asked. He hoped it wasn’t the emotional gratification of seeing him suffer. He was never good with those types, as evidenced by his partnership with Kotomine.

Archer’s smile grew meloncholic. “You ask, as if there is any sense in telling you.”

“Try me."

Archer threw back his head and laughed at that, a hint of bitterness seeping back into his tone.

"Do you understand what it means to be a hero, Worm Chulainn? We surrender our humanity (wormanity) to become something greater than a normal worm yet far lesser. Now, we are nothing but Worms on String, being pulled along by and for the sake of Humanity's will. Believe me, when I say there is no sense.”

Lancer could feel his fuzz rise with irritation. He itched to smack the other worm around for a bit until he spat out whatever he was hinting at. Lancer disliked worms who danced around their thoughts and _fervently_ disliked worms who then roped other unwilling worms into their self-flagellation as well. Choking on their own desires, and all for what end?

However, Lancer, in the face of Archer’s soft, strange smile, found himself faltering.

Without warning, the other worm zipped towards him quickly. Before Lancer could react, Archer had curled their tails together and was kissing him.

Lancer drew back first, lingering a bit when their snout fuzz brushed together.

“And what did you want from that?” he asked Archer, another simple question. "Was there any sense to that?" Without hoping for any answers, Lancer pinned Archer with his gaze.

“I don’t know,” Archer admitted quietly, to Lancer’s surprise.

Archer looked at Lancer intensely, and he prepared himself for another rushed kiss. But Archer instead averted his gaze, turning his googly eyes to the ground.

Lancer could feel the Grail tugging at his string insistently, and he wanted to snap at it, irritated for reasons he didn’t want to think about.

“I’ll see you again,” Lancer said, less as a greeting and more as a confirmation. He wriggled slightly as his wormy body began to unweave itself.

“I suppose we will, if destiny maintains its sense of humor,” Archer said in reply. He laughed again, and the sound made Lancer’s heart skip a beat. “And I suppose it will.”

Archer finally turned looked at Lancer again. The glow from Lancer’s fading body reflected in Archer’s googly eyes, accentuating the warmth in the other worm’s gaze. Lancer felt his wormy chest twist and clench.

“Then, you better be ready to answer me properly next time, Archer,” he called out. Lancer’s lower body was gone now, and the glowing particles were working their way up to his neck.

“Do you really want to hear what I have to say?” Archer murmured, barely audible. “There’s being brave and there’s being brash, Worm of Light. You might regret it.”

“I don’t know,” Lancer said loudly. He reared his snout proudly. “But what kind of worm would I be if I slithered (ran) away from anything?”

Archer stared at him with incredulity and a fair bit of wonder. Lancer snickered at his expression.

Then, he let go. The Grail washed the existence known as Peist Chulainn away from the mortal plane. As he was swept along the pulsing tide of legends, Lancer could feel it poking and prodding at his mind, grasping at every remnant of his latest visit to the earth below.

Not so fast, Lancer thought, baring his teeth in a grin or whatever worms have instead of a grin, fiercely tugging back. The Grail combed through his memories insistently.

I have a promise to keep.

He held on even as the Grail became more forceful. He held on even after the pain began. He held on until he forgot why he was holding on.

As the Throne of Heroes dragged him by his string, deeper into its primordial soup of information, Lancer felt his consciousness begin to dissolve. He grinned one last wormy grin.

See you on the other side, Archer.

**Author's Note:**

> I made it worm on a string bcse I couldn’t finish this otherwise


End file.
